


Suit Yourself

by synteis



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Tailoring, non-binary Lafayette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 06:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11777460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synteis/pseuds/synteis
Summary: Their first appointment at Mulligan's Tailoring had Lafayette more than a little nervous. They were after something particular. As it would turn out, Hercules of Mulligan's Tailoring had what they were looking for and more.





	Suit Yourself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [battlemoosegalactica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/battlemoosegalactica/gifts).



> Hope you enjoy this, battlemoosegalactica.

The package on the bed was mocking them.

Lafayette’s phone pinged and they checked it automatically, tearing their eyes away from the bed with some relief.

Maria  
_I hope you aren’t freaking yourself out <3 _

Laf  
_How do you say, no comment_

Maria  
_I know all your tricks don’t try and distract me_  
_Peggy said that Mulligan’s Tailoring handled xie v well  
__If it’s good enough for the Schuylers /and/ they can put up with Peggy, you’ll be a treat <3_

It wasn’t quite the same. The Schuylers were New York royalty, the shop would hardly dare to treat their youngest child badly, no matter how “eccentric” they might find xie.

No, this was the wrong attitude to have. Everybody had warned Laf when they’d come here for university that America was nothing like they’d imagined it. That people were cold, especially in New York city. And Laf had proved them all wrong. Had flourished at Columbia’s business program and look at them now. On their way to the top of Mr Washington’s investment firm (whom they privately referred to as George in their head, ready for the day when he finally permitted Laf the honour). And they had done so without losing their optimism or their charm.

Mulligan of Mulligan’s Tailoring could be won over too, just like all the other Americans. Such shops had been nightmares in France but here they had the upper hand, here Lafayette could charm anyone.

There were times when Laf wondered whether that very coolness was why Americans blossomed so in their presence. Desperate for cheer, all of them.

They turned back to their mirror and began their usual weekend makeup routine. By the time they were done, their skin was smooth, their cheekbones contoured, the shadow of their facial hair a mere memory.

Their gaze flicked over to the tubes of lipstick.

Before they could change their mind, Laf swatched on a more neutral brown and then a deep red onto their arm. A snap of the swatches and one of their made up face later and Maria, Peggy and Alex were the proud recipients of their conundrum.

While they waited for their answer they slipped on a simple collared shirt, letting their fingers fall into the familiar routine of slipping in button after button.

Alex  
_obvs the red  
__wrk it_

Peggy  
_The natural look is in  
__So like the brown_

Maria  
_Trying to steal my signature color?_  
_Obviously I’m joking :*  
__Which one are you feeling?_

Laf  
_I sent you the question precisely bc I could not decide  
__Why must you always be so unhelpful? Surely some self-actualization can come from outside, n’est-ce pas?_

Maria  
_I can’t believe that everyone thinks your imitation of a French accent in English is cute_

Laf  
_I am only giving them what they want and expect from me, cherie_  
_Who does it hurt  
__It makes them smile and giggle and then they tell me how handsome I am and give me a free latte_

Maria  
_You’re dripping in money, you don’t need free lattes_

Laf  
_Receiving gifts of any size is nice no matter how much money you have_

Maria  
_Ugh, you’re the worst_

Pressed slacks and a belt joined the shirt as per instructions, finished with their brown pair of dress shoes. They spent a little longer fiddling with their hair and makeup while they waited for Maria to give in.

She had done a wonderful job with their hair last weekend. Lafayette turned one way and then the other, admiring the way their braids rose from the back of their head to spill across their forehead. It had the feeling of bangs and a pompadour all at once.

Maria  
_Fine, I like the red_

Victory!

Satisfied, Laf applied the glossy red lip colour and sent them all the final look before walking out the door, the package from the bed in hand.

 

* * *

 

Lafayette tugged their clothing back into place from the ride and knocked on the door to the shop, charming smile in place.

Mulligan’s Tailoring stood squished between a bodega and a grubby apartment building. Not precisely where they had imagined the likes of the Senator Philip Schuyler got his suits made.

Just when they were going to knock again, the door swung open. In it stood a well-dressed man who managed to tower over even them. He was built like a wall, solid muscle wrapped in fine fabrics and tailored lines. He won points for not doing too hard of a double take at the color of their lips. But then he /had/ dealt with Peggy after all.

Lafayette’s eyes lingered a little, admiring how the suit’s royal blue brought out the jewel-like undertones of his dark skin. Trained on Savile Row, Angelica had told him when she’d made the recommendation. It showed.

“Monsieur Mulligan, I presume. I am your 11:00 am client. You may call me Lafayette.” They stretched out their hand.

A cool, dry hand shook theirs. Larger by a fair bit but no pissing contest grip. Solid and respectful. Better and better.

“Marquis. Please, come in.” A rich baritone, lovely.

Inside, the store had twin racks of suits and jackets along one red-brick wall. Along the other wall was an elevated platform. Minimalist and a little old-fashioned.

Perhaps not so surprising a location after all. New Yorkers liked to feel like they’d discovered somewhere special, somewhere unique.

Lafayette strode over to the wall of racks. A mix of brands some American, some European, some Asian. Unlike many of other tailors that Lafayette had visited, Mulligan’s made-to-measure selection offered no stylistic preference, only a monetary one. The best brands or at least the most expensive.

“A very fine collection, Monsieur Mulligan.”

A shallow nod. “Are there any that are speaking to you at the moment? You said when you called that you wanted to commission one made-to-measure suit and one bespoke suit, both for the office. Is that still what you’re looking for?”

“Oui, c’est ça. The bespoke suit will be a little more specialized so I thought we could perhaps discuss the made-to-measure first.” The butterflies in their stomach fluttered a little at the mention of the bespoke suit but they held it together. They had been in fine stores all of their life. You must never show fear. The most that was allowed was some diva-esque indecisiveness.

The man himself stood off to the side, his hands clasped behind his back. The model of Old World salesmanship. No, Lafayette must not allow themselves to give away any hint of anxiety or they would find themselves crossed out of the books.

The low voice emerged once more from the corner. “Would you like me to take your bag while you browse, Marquis?”

They did their best not to flinch or clutch it tighter. “Non, but thank you.”

Fine stripping caught their eye and they had to hold back the sigh of relief. “Something like I thought. Pinstripes, fall weight wool.”

“A very fine brand. American.” Lafayette almost jumped, the man seemed to have appeared over their very shoulder with scarcely a sound.

Composure that was what they needed. This man was trained like the tailors and dressmakers of Lafayette’s childhood, that was all. Lafayette had been themselves conditioned to expect this very training. And yet today…

But then, they knew the reason for it.

The rough weave of the cotton straps pressed into their hand.

The man gestured towards the platform and Lafayette realized they had missed at least one sentence if not more as well the suit’s brand. But it was impossible to say anything to that effect.

They hung the bag on one of the hooks by the platform and then draped their overcoat over the provided hanger. The man stepped towards them, suit jacket in hand. Lafayette held out their right arm as Mr. Mulligan opened the jacket and slipped it over first the right arm and then the left when Lafayette extended it in turn. The jacket slid on with ease, the fine lining lubricating its journey.

Not a perfect fit but it wasn’t supposed to be.

Lafayette wiggled the collar, allowing it to settle. Beautiful wool under their fingers. A dark but rich blue with a fine grey striping.

Mulligan came forward and gestured, talked through the changes that would need to be made, brought out some other suits which Lafayette tried on in turn and then there were more comments and more options and never once did he mention Lafayette’s red lips or the makeup which smoothed out their face.

“For the waist, I was thinking–”

Now or never. Time for them to show their bravery.

“I was wishing for some, how you say, some more structure around the waist.”

“More structure? With the suit being made to measure there is only so much they can do around the pattern of the canvas, Marquis.”

Of course.

Could overlook “eccentricities” but wouldn’t deviate from the pattern. This was the kind of suit men wore so of course it would be made for a man’s needs, not somebody like Laf who was stuck outside any categories of the sort. All of their careful preparations, it had been a waste of time. Even going with obvious lipstick, which they could admit now had been part of an effort to ease– to fit in– to look like–

To look like someone whose wishes might be treated with respect. With care.

“-but we can include such components to your bespoke suit, of course.”

Lafayette looked up.

They had not, it must be said, truly looked at the man’s face before. He had been a shadow against a wall, large, cool hands holding a measuring tape, a mannequin wearing a fine suit which suited his colouring and spoke to his skill. A voice, a fear. The weight of all of those visits to stores just like this one filled with well-trained employees who had kept a young child in the “right” section of the store, who had pushed him away from bright colours and patterns and soft fabrics.

Now Lafayette looked at his face. Broad, solid. A wide, flaring nose, wider than Lafayette’s own. A soft quality in his eyes and around his mouth. “And might I suggest I have them nip in the waist instead?” Mulligan continued either obvious or purposefully ignoring Lafayette’s emotional response. “It will give some of the same quality you were looking for in the waist. The pinstripes will follow from your chest down to your waist making the cut more obvious and drawing your eye there. Would that suit?”

Lafayette swallowed. “Yes, that would suit me very well, Monsieur Mulligan.” Their voice was so quiet, almost a whisper. Who at work would believe it was their voice in this moment?

A pause. Lafayette studied Mulligan’s face some more, looking for any hint of mockery but there was none. Professionalism and kindness.

“Thank you, Monsieur Mulligan.”

And then the man did the strangest thing. He gave a small bow, certainly more than a nod of the head. For a moment, Lafayette seemed to tower over him.

It was strange how close to tears this brought them, this small moment of respect, of submission, of trust.

Well there was only one solution to such chivalry.

“Now, what were you saying about admiring my waist, Monsieur Mulligan? It is true that it is a feature that others have often complimented me about. It would give me great pleasure to be able to show it off for once.”

A blush rose in the man’s cheeks and he pulled down on his vest before fiddling with his pocket square until every wrinkle had been pressed out. _Très adorable, très adorable._

“Yes, a- a very fine figure, Marquis.” He coughed then seemed to regain control. His voice was as smooth as a river stone when he spoke once more. “It will be a pleasure constructing your bespoke piece.”

“Yes, it is to be my coming out suit at work. As you have perhaps noticed, I do not wish to always dress in such a masculine fashion or to he thought of in such ways. I hope this suit will be, how do you say, a good luck charm. Something unique. A bright blue, medium weight.” And then it was all out for the most part. It was a true relief, a stone lifted from their thoughts. They smiled easily for the first time all day.

“Do you think you can construct such a garment, Monsieur Mullgian?”

There was a pause and a complicated series of emotions passed over the man’s face.

“Ah, excusez-moi, I ask an unfair question. Your standards of craftsmanship have been clear during our appointment as is your style. I am certain you will design me the perfect suit for that day and one that I will treasure for many years.”

“Thank you.” He bowed once more. “Did you have any particular ideas?”

“I will be wearing un corset underneath so something, I thought, which would take advantage of that.” So much easier to say the words now and terribly satisfying to see the man flush again.

“Ah I see. I am afraid I will need to see the garment as well as your modified waist measurements–”

“I am ahead of you there, monsieur,” said Lafayette, the buttons of their shirt already halfway undone. “If you could just pass me the bag on hanger.”

“Of- of course, Marquis.”

The man’s hands practically shook as he handed it over.

Well, this was rather more fun that Lafayette had imagined this appointment going and with such lovely reactions how could they possibly resist. Now in only their undershirt, they bent over and took out the corset, wondering if Mulligan was enjoying the picture they presented. They did it up and then turned their head over their shoulder, knowing they looked coquettish. “Would you do me up, monsieur?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” The man swallowed again and then his hand were on the cords and some of that massive strength was pulling Laf’s waist ever smaller. It was almost an aphrodisiac.

Mulligan seemed distracted for almost a moment but he must have collected himself for in a moment he was all professionalism once more. “With the bespoke, I was wondering what you thoughts about looser pants which would be gathered sharply at the waist to call to mind a skirt…”

 

* * *

 

The appointment drew to an end and Lafayette was two suits richer. They would need to return for the fittings, particularly for the bespoke. The made-to-measure would be ready before the end of the month but the bespoke would take some time longer. It would be worth every moment with Monsieur Hercules Mulligan at the helm, though. Lafayette could not ever remember being so excited about an article of clothing.

“-and my mobile is (xxx) xxx-xxxx,” they finished as the entered the last details for their next appointment.

Lafayette looked up at the man and winked with as much purpose as they could infuse. “You may call me at absolutely anytime, Hercules.” His full name sounded wonderful against Lafayette’s tongue.

The man’s hand shook. “Are you- Are you flirting with me, Marquis?”

“Tsk. I asked you to call me Lafayette when we met and you have been disobeying all afternoon. Now I will make that request again. Call me Laf. It’s what my friends use. And it seems only fair that you use it when I am trying to ask you out for dinner tonight, n’est-ce pas?”

The warm flush which lit up the man’s cheeks was worth the entire trip even without the lovely suits in their future.

“Of course, if you are not interested, I will not be offended. I do not wish to pester you or make you uncomfortable especially when I am your client. But yes, I was flirting. You are a very handsome and charming man. You do beautiful work and it would be my great pleasure to have you company over dinner tonight.”

Hercules’s hand rose to brush at their waist where they still had the corset fastened. His movements were slow and hesitant but Laf continued to smile down at him and slowly his touch grew bolder. His fingers rubbed against the boning and Lafayette revelled in his touch, in how small he made them feel, how safe.

“May I kiss you, Lafayette?” Their name sounded lovely in Hercules's rich baritone.

They gave an impish grin and couldn't help but ask, “Is this a yes to dinner, then?” 

“Yes.”

And then Laf had to close their eyes because Hercules’s plush lips were on theirs and the spicy smell of his cologne was filling their nose. They whimpered into his mouth as he kept kissing, deeper and harder. Sighed when his hands wrapped around their enclosed waist, feeling almost like they could wrap around it in their entirety. And then at last they had the permission to touch, to feel the fine wool that enclosed Hercules’s strong back, to press against his chest. To drown in him.

At last they both pulled away, resting their foreheads together.

Slowly, Lafayette opened their eyes. “Ah, I’m afraid I’ve gotten some lipstick on you, Hercules. Would you like a tissue?”

“No need, Laf. I plan to kiss you a good while longer, if that's alright with you. This is just a breather.”

"Oui, I would like that very, very much."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments of any kind including crit are welcome. You can find me on tumblr as synteis.


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